THE PROTESTING PITCHER by Jan Persons

“Ouch, that hurts!” “Relax!” “But that hurts when you pinch like that. Yow!” “Sure it does, but just for a second. C’mon, relax and let me finish. I know what I’m doing.” “Yeah, but do you have to squish me right here? I mean, couldn’t you just let me stay nice and round and wide?” “I could, but I have something else in mind.” “Well, could you hurry it up?” “I’m trying to, but your constant interruptions

and arguments are slowing things down.” “Hey! There you go again squishing me together even harder. Is all this really necessary?” “Sure is. I’m making myself a pitcher, and a pitcher isn’t a pitcher without a pouring spout. It isn’t a bean pot or a garbage can I’m wanting. Now settle down, I’m almost through. You want to be useable, don’t you?” “Well, yes. But I’d never have let you take me out of that hillside of clay if I’d known you’d be doing all this to me.”

“So? That’s why I didn’t tell you. But believe me, you’ll be far happier being my best water pitcher than you were wasting your days back in that hillside of clay. You weren’t useful to anyone back there. Now you’re ready for the kiln.” “Kiln? What is a ki----eeyii!! What are you trying to do? Kill me? It’s hot in here!” Yep. I know.” “When do I get out? Can you turn down the temperature? Just a little?”

“Nope. If I turned it down even a little or let you out a little bit early you wouldn’t be tempered enough and you’d crack. Now tell me, just what use is a cracked water pitcher? Relax.” “Oh, all right.” “Well, time’s up. Let’s see what you look like. I’ve never made a pitcher quite like you before. Oh, you’re beautiful, if I do say so myself. Here, look for yourself.” “Ooh. Is that me? I never dreamed I could be made to look like this. Oh, Master Potter, thank you for not heeding my protests. Thank you for seeing past the cold, sticky clay that I was to

what you knew I could become. Thank you for working with me when I wanted to stay an ugly blob of clay. Thank you, most of all for seeing the final me all the time!” “But now, O Lord, Thou art our Father; we are the clay, and Thou our potter; and we all are the work of Thy hand.” Isaiah 64:8